3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mason

After two layovers and over a day of traveling, I was finally on my last flight before the long car ride to Hartwood, Maine, where I’d start my new life. It was a thought just as exciting as it was terrifying.

But I was excited to finally have a real family. I’d be the mom, Seb would be the dad, and Lavender would be allowed to just be a kid. She wouldn’t be toted around to interviews or forced to take care of her own needs from a young age. Her only job would be to love and be loved.

As a reward for nearly completing my journey, I indulged in a cinnamon roll the size of my head and a frozen “coffee” that tasted more like a chocolate milkshake that was full of tiny bits of ice. And, of course, a phone call with Sebastian, who laughed at me as I stuffed my face.

He found every action I took, every quirk I displayed, endearing. Sebastian had an unyielding fascination with me that I could never understand. While his affection was heartwarming, I could tell he had no genuine love for me. He refused to acknowledge, let alone accept, my flaws and imperfections. He was in love with a perfect version of me, a fantasy. And he would’ve done anything to keep that fantasy alive. Which was exactly why I needed him—he was a constant presence in my life, and I needed someone who would never leave.

My daughter deserved the stability I never had, and God knows I wasn’t going to find her biological father. He was just some redneck at one of my dad’s concerts.

As I settled into my spacious seat in the business class cabin, I was relieved to notice that the seat next to me was still empty. The solitude would be nice. Fans had recognized me on each of my previous three flights, launching impromptu multi-hour Q&A sessions. My throat was starting to hurt from talking that whole time. I loved my fans, but I also craved a little peace. Time to myself where I could sleep or read without being disrupted. Finally, I’d have that.

Or at least that’s what I thought, until I heard a flight attendant talking to someone nearby.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she pleaded. “I know you paid for first class, but— “

As the flight attendant began approaching my seat, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. The unexpected interruption shattered my hopes of solitude and threatened to disrupt the peaceful journey I had envisioned for myself. But as the man spoke, a jolt of recognition raced through my veins.

“Ain’t no reason for you to be sorry.” His resonant baritone drawl caused shivers to cascade down my spine.

“Thank you for being so kind with all of this.”

“No reason for me not to be.”

His hulking frame came into view: a huge mound of soft-looking muscles fighting desperately not to bust out of a checkered button-down shirt. Dark blue jeans with subtle grass and dirt stains on the knees. Hands so large he could probably palm my entire head. All of it topped off with a mess of wild copper hair.

That’s when I realized I had definitely seen this man’s penis, and as he turned his honey gaze toward me, I had a feeling he remembered me just as I did him. He offered me a friendly smile as he sat down, one that fell the second he noticed my swollen stomach.

I reached to raise the divider, but he interrupted me, placing his hand on mine.

My words stuck in my throat like peanut butter, but luckily, he was able to muster a few words:

“You, uh—we slept together a few months ago, right?”

Should I tell him no? I could try to play it off as a case of mistaken identity.

“We might have?” I giggled, but a shake in my breath betrayed my nervousness. “I don’t know your name, though, so that’d be rather embarrassing.”

He hesitated as he scanned my face. “No, we did. You have a look that’s hard to forget.”

That was a nice way of putting it. I looked like I was made of spare parts. Freckles dotted my cheeks like little specks of dirt that would never wash off. My smile didn’t quite fit together, with too-sharp canines and a gap between my front teeth. No matter how I styled my hair, it always stuck up on either side of my forehead, and if all of that wasn’t enough, even my eyes didn’t match.

I had read in tabloids that my differences made me unmistakable—beautiful even. But when I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt like a freak that had escaped the circus.

“Hard to forget, huh?” I twirled a strand of raven-colored hair around my finger, acting like I had never heard that before.

“Yeah—I ain’t seen no one dress like you do.”

I looked down at my distressed shirt and black leggings and snorted, “You make me walk.”

“I what?”

“Sorry.” My face went hot. “The phrase doesn’t translate well. I mean, you’ve got to be kidding me. Six other people on this plane are wearing this exact outfit.”

His laugh was a low rumble that seemed to fill the entire cabin.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not your clothes that stand out. That doesn’t change my point.” His laughter dissipated. “We slept together. And... Well, I hate to be rude, but—“

“I’m gonna save you the embarrassment.” I stretched. “I’m twenty-six weeks tomorrow. She’s due on Christmas.”

All the camaraderie in the cabin seemed to vanish. The man studied my face with an intense, almost fearful look in his eye.

“Is she... mine?”

Silence reigned as I wrestled with exactly what to say.

“You know how people go to sperm banks and get themselves pregnant?” I asked, shifting my weight to lean over the divider.

“Oh, is that what you did?” The idea of that seemed to put him at ease.

“Yeah, kind of. Just with a more personal donation,” I explained. “So, did you get me pregnant? Absolutely. Is she your baby? Not a chance in hell.”

His eyes went dark with regret momentarily before relief washed over him. He finally let himself relax, settling his enormous frame into the stiff, pleather seat.

“Well, good—I ain’t the type of man you’d want to have kids with. But, since we’ll never see each other again... can we talk about her a bit?”

I hesitated momentarily, unsure how to respond to his request. The last thing I wanted was to delve into a complicated and potentially emotional conversation about our unborn child. Still, no one other than Sebastian had been happy about, let alone genuinely interested in, my pregnancy. I probably should have seen that as a red flag, but honestly, I wanted a chance to gush about my daughter.

“Sure, we can talk about her,” I replied, my voice softer than before. “But let’s make one thing clear: once we get off this plane, you need to forget about us.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He flashed a smile more infectious than the plague, and I hid my mouth behind my sleeve to prevent him from seeing my toothy grin. With my other hand, I scrolled through my phone to find the videos and photos from my most recent ultrasound.

“Here she is.” I offered him the device, and he hesitated a moment before gingerly taking it. “Lavender Joy Albright.”

It was a name Sebastian had picked. He was stepping up to father a child he didn’t make, so naming her was the least I could offer him.

He tapped the screen, zooming in on her face, “She’s beautiful… and I think she’s got your nose.”

I chuckled softly, watching his eyes light up with awe as he examined the ultrasound. Seeing him share in the excitement and joy of this moment brought a warmth to my heart that I hadn’t expected.

“Yeah, she has my nose,” I boasted before clearing my throat. I was being too loud, and that was part of what made me so easy to hate. So, I took a deep breath before continuing in a softer tone.

“She’s super active too. Anytime something touches my belly, she kicks at it.”

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen as he scrolled through the photos.

“It’s incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. “To think that she’s growing inside you... It’s a miracle.”

I placed a hand on my stomach, feeling her come alive at my touch.

“It feels funny that I know her name but not yours,” he added.

We had fucked, yet we didn’t even know each other’s names. Probably not one of my brightest moments. After a brief consideration, I extended my hand toward him.

“Mason James Albright.”

His hand was softer than I thought it would be.

“Cameron Cole.”

“What, that’s it? No middle name?”

“Ain’t got one.” He shrugged.

“Well, Cameron Cole, it’s a pleasure to know your name, finally.” I withdrew my hand, feeling a newfound connection with him.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Cameron and I launched into a surprisingly natural conversation as the plane took off. We talked about our backgrounds, interests, and hopes for the future. Engaging in a genuine conversation with someone who had no preconceived notions about me and saw beyond my public persona was refreshing.

As the hours passed, we continued sharing stories and laughter. Cameron’s dry humor matched mine, and his down-to-earth personality made me feel at ease. We discussed our careers, and I learned that being a pastor meant more than just talking to a group of people once a week. I asked him what else it meant, but he didn’t really elaborate. When it was my turn, I explained I was a musician, and Cameron wasn’t surprised. He said it just fit my personality. However, he seemed caught him off guard when I said I played violin. Apparently, he was expecting something a little more rock-and-roll. I didn’t want to let on exactly how well-known my music was. If he didn’t know I was a pop star, there was no harm in not telling him.

“So, I gotta ask, what do you got waiting for you in the States?” He chuckled.

It was a genuine question, but it felt like an insult.

“I have a boy waiting for me,” I whispered.

It was embarrassing that I had to travel over a thousand miles just to find someone who could tolerate me for more than a few years. Sensing my self-consciousness, Cameron squeezed my hand reassuringly. His touch brought comfort, and his warm gaze met mine.

“I hope he knows he’s a lucky man,” he said, sincerity plain in his voice. “You seem like a remarkable woman, and I’m glad my child has you as a mother—even if I’m not involved.”

Tears welled in my eyes as Cameron’s words touched my heart. At that moment, I realized I would never see this man, the father of my daughter, ever again. There would be no more coincidences to lead us back to each other.

“You shouldn’t say that stuff to a pregnant woman.” I looked up and wiped the tears from my eyes.

Cameron’s expression softened, and I could see he regretted his words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I managed a weak smile and nodded, trying to regain my composure.

“No, it’s not your fault. Pregnancy hormones, you know?” I cleared my throat. “So, who’s going to be picking you up from the airport?”